Son of a Duke Read Free Page A

anyone for this job."  
    "No, I suppose they did not," she said and allowed him to twirl her across the floor.
    ~
    Eleanora stood for a moment by the refreshment table as she gathered her thoughts about her once more.   It was not everyday that she inadvertently mingled with duchesses and earls in quite such proximity in the middle of a ball.   And thank goodness it was not for she would never be able to keep such a close eye on the happenings about her if her attention were always so judiciously averted.   Especially by the Earl of Stryden.   She knew he was married even though she had never seen his wife, but she also knew that did not matter when it came to his seductive powers.   And for the first time that she could remember, Eleanora suddenly wondered what it would be like to be seduced by a man.   A real man.   A gentleman.  
    She physically shook her head in the middle of the crowded ballroom as if to shake the thought from her head.   The heat was clearly getting to her, and she would have to seek fresher air or risk collapsing on the spot.   She moved quickly then, sliding around the refreshment table and escaping through a door at the back of the ballroom.   Her sturdy shoes made no sound as she quickly moved below stairs, expertly dodging the footmen as they carried the trays of champagne above stairs.
    It was a maze of hallways and staircases on this level of the house, and Eleanora moved quickly through them.   She knew Hawkins was likely to be in the kitchen if he were not above stairs where his energy could be put to good use.   Eleanora would speak to him about that tomorrow, but tonight it would do her no good to argue with the man.  
    She dodged a rather green footman who still carried his tray with two hands and rounded a corner to turn expertly out of the way of a rushing kitchen maid exclaiming something that sounded like the hen is on fire.   Eleanora did not spend a moment's worry on whether or not that was exactly what the maid had said for she trusted Cook to have everything under control.   Finally, Eleanora spun into the kitchen and stopped.  
    Hawkins hovered in the doorway on the other side of the room where another staircase lead up directly into the dining room where an elegant banquet table had been laid with the night's supper assortments.   There were to be plates of cold roast beef and ham, a radiant display of cheeses and rolls, and decadent savory pastries and sweetmeats for the guests to enjoy.   And Hawkins should have taken his place amongst the footmen in the room to ensure that the meal neatly progressed.   He should not have been below stairs worrying a hole in the floor with his concerned pacing.  
    Eleanora approached him carefully.  
    "Mr. Hawkins, I do believe you have expressed concern over the number of footmen with us this evening."  
    She kept her hands behind her back, tucked under the bow of her apron.   She felt the scratch of starch even through the fabric of her gloves.   She wondered for a moment what it would feel like to wear clothing of a more luxurious fabric like the gowns she had seen on the dancing women upstairs.   The thought was preposterous, and she quickly banished it to take care of the matter at hand.
    Mr. Hawkins paused in his pacing, turning his sagging face toward her.   Every time he cast her a look of dismay, she thought   of the long face of a Basset hound and felt the corners of her mouth pull upward, which never helped the situation involving Hawkins.  
    "There are only eleven footmen, Miss Quinton.   Surely, we need an even dozen."  
    Eleanora nodded in sympathy.  
    "Yes, Mr. Hawkins, I can see where an even number would feel more solid and provide a sense of security, but Gregenden House is fortunate enough to say the best footmen that can be found in all of London are here tonight, and they are serving the guests above stairs now even as we speak.   But do you know what would make it a solid dozen servants above